


Fly Home

by Neonbat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Bottom Dean, Brief Sam, Creature Castiel, Creature Fic, Harpies, Harpy!Castiel, M/M, Raven!Castiel, Samhain magic, Writer!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat/pseuds/Neonbat
Summary: Dean tried to be the big brother Sam would be proud of, even if he didn't know the first thing about taking care of an injured raven he found in his backyard. All he had to do was wait for when his Vet brother could swing his ass by and pick it up. Then again, he should have known life was never so easy.





	Fly Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pimento](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/gifts).



> This was made for the PBexchange Halloween for the wonderfully talented Pimento!
> 
> Thank you to Ellenofoz for betaing!<3

Admittedly, Dean hadn’t really thought rescuing an injured raven from his backyard through. Maybe Sammy being a vet was rubbing off on him, or maybe he was just bored after Lisa breaking up with him —  either way, he had a big-ass bird in a box in his living room and no idea what to do with it. 

 

Dean dialed his brother, chewing on his lower lip as he side-eyed the unconscious creature nestled among shop-rags now streaked in its blood. He couldn’t get rabies from a bird, could he?

 

“Come on Sam pick —”

 

“Hello?” It was loud in the background, not that Dean hadn’t expected it. It was the weekend before Halloween and Sam was out with his girlfriend when all other nine-to-fivers had to hit up the weekend for a weekday holiday. 

 

“Sa-...Sam...SAM!” Dean puffed a frustrated sigh before his brother presumably ducked into a side room or a bathroom, “Look man, got a situation. I found this big-ass bird in the backyard and its wing is messed up or something. What should I do with it?”

 

“What kind of bird? Did you touch it? Dean, wash your hands, you don’t know what it could be carrying.”

 

“I’m not an idiot, jerk. I washed my damn hands, and I dunno. A crow? Raven? Fuck if I know—it’s a big black bird. Focus.”

 

Dean sank onto his beat-up leather couch, grimacing at the creak in his knees. He was barely thirty-two and already he felt battered and worn from a childhood and young adult life of hard living. He’d lucked out finding an agent that gave a shit about his no-frills, gritty writing style, but the life of a writer wasn’t settling well with him lately.

 

Frankly, he was bored. He was used to hopping from town to town, finding work where he could, back-breaking, fingers-bleeding, hard work. Now the most strenuous thing he did was rake the yard, shitty as it was. Having a run-down piece of property of his own was a novelty, even if it was outside the town limits and creepy as fuck at night.

 

“Alright alright, uh...” Sam’s slurring said he was on the wrong side of “just a bit tipsy” but he was trying. “How old is it? How big? What’s the injury?”

 

Dean tried his best to relay his limited knowledge of birds and what was wrong with this one. As far as he could tell, the raven (as Sam deduced) had a jacked up wing with an open wound near its armpit, or whatever you called it on a bird. It wasn’t breathing weird, so that had to be a good sign. 

 

Breathing out, Sam hummed lightly. “Okay, if you have a heating pad put it in the box, make sure it can breathe, put a towel or something over the box, and I’ll be by tomorrow to take it to the sanctuary in Oxdale.”

 

That was all well and great, but what was he supposed to do with it till then? 

 

They said their goodbyes and forty-five minutes later Dean had a jerry-rigged bird nest set up, complete with a heating pad left over from when he’d pulled a muscle in his back fixing the roof of the shit heap he called home.  

 

It was barely ten o’clock, but Dean was ready to check out. Jess and Sam had tried getting him to go out, but fresh off an ugly break with Lisa, he wasn’t feeling it. He hadn’t expected Lisa to get cold feet, not when the subject of marriage had been brought up more than once. Her kid, Ben, had been great and Dean had really seen himself as a stepfather but...well, it looked like life had other plans. What else was new?

 

Dean paced around the old farmhouse, locking doors and throwing on the back porch light to discourage raccoons from rooting around the trash, or worse. The coyotes were feeling bolder than usual lately, and Dean had popped a couple of them in the ass with his BB-gun more than once, much to Sam’s chagrin. 

 

Tucked into his bed, he felt almost in control. His ugly plaid sheets, his boxers with a hole in the left buttcheek, and the sound of the wind against his shutters, it was more than he’d had his whole life. But remembering how it felt to have someone look up to him, to rely on him? That was something he’d always miss. Letting Sammy go when it was time for college had been bittersweet, and he’d mourned the loss more than their deadbeat of a dad ever had before he’d died of cirrhosis. Losing Lisa had stung, but it was losing the connection he’d had with Ben that had left the biggest scar. Loneliness was a bitch. 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean woke with a start, staring into the inky darkness of his room with the sudden, terrifying sensation that he wasn’t alone. Before he could sit up, the foot of his bed dipped deep enough that it had to be a  _ somebody _ rather than a  _ something _ . A deep chirrup broke through the pounding of Dean’s heart, nearly croaking, but oddly avian. 

 

He flailed for the nightstand, almost slapping the thrifted lamp from its perch in his scramble to illuminate the room. A burst of light ripped through his sleep-glazed eyes, and whatever was on his bed squawked indignantly. A heavy thump sounded as the intruder backpedaled right off the bed and onto the floor, annoyed chattering melding with the sound of nails on wood. 

 

Dean sprang to his feet, going for the baseball bat by his bedside. As he wheeled around, the person got to its feet, and Dean wheeled around, ready to beat the shit out of the dumbass that messed with Dean Winchester.

 

At first, Dean wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking at. “Buddy, are you —”  _ Lost _ froze on his tongue the moment he realized the creepy bird legs weren’t some kind of Halloween costume, but actually goddamn  _ legs _ . It was like someone had hacked off someone’s legs at the kneecaps and stuck on a bird’s, save for it was eerily proportionate and the connecting junction was hidden in a thick, downy layer of glossy black feathers. 

 

That said nothing of the fucking  _ wings _ . Arms? He didn’t know. All he knew is that where a person’s arms should go, the guy had wings that looked vaguely like arms but covered in the same inky feathers except super-sized. The nerdy-ass otaku in him was reminded of  _ Howl’s Moving Castle _ and the thought alone almost made him giggle deliriously. 

 

The creature cocked his head, and Dean was struck by just how human the thing looked. If Dean met a guy with that face on the street with a proper human body, he’d have made eyes. Strong jaw, well, strong everything really, with slightly dozy glacial blue eyes. 

 

The bird-thing opened its mouth and a gravely trill pulsed from its throat. It made to step forward and faltered, hunkering down on its strange legs and tucking its right wing to its side. The wing was at an awkward angle, mostly limp at its side, and an ugly wound oozed a lazy trail of blood down the being’s feather-dusted side. 

 

Almost like...No, that’d be fucking insane. Dean had to have downed a case of bed and crashed hard again. There was no way this was actually happening. 

 

“Um, so... Fuck.” Dean struggled, torn between reaching out for confirmation and being scared shitless of a bird-creature in his bedroom.

 

It looked up, cocking its head so deep it would have caused permanent damage in a human. It’s pale pink lips opened once more, roughly clearing its throat in vain. It had visible dry lips, and now that Dean was looking closer, it didn’t look so hot. 

 

In for a penny, in for a pound. Dean backed slowly towards his bathroom to retrieve a glass of water from his sink. “Here?” he ventured, offering the half-full glass with a vague worry the creature wouldn’t have any clue what to do with its bird-arms. 

 

It looked up, reaching out. Clawed fingertips peeked out from long feathers, and it cupped the glass in its left hand and tipped the water to its lips, drinking greedily. After finishing the water, it looked at the glass, chirruping so low it sounded like more of a grumble. The clack of its teeth against the glass spurred Dean forward, and he reached to snatch the glass before the creature could break it. 

“Hold on, I’ll get more. Chill.” He retrieved more water, and the being drank deep from this cup as well. 

 

Now satisfied, the bird dropped the now-useless glass onto the bed and got to its feet. Claws scraped against the old hardwood floors as it stepped, pacing slowly towards Dean with intense, large eyes. 

 

Dean resisted backing up, bat held in a vice grip. “What the hell are you?” he managed.

 

It paused, little fussing notes warbling in its throat. After another moment, it crept closer and peered its face closer to Dean’s own. Its lips parted, and Dean witnessed a shift in its features he would have rather not had a ring-side seat to. 

 

It blinked, and when its eyes opened, the wide pupils had distilled to a more acceptable human dimension. The faint note building in its throat cut off as something popped and shifted in its throat, and after a wince, it took a deep breath. 

 

The feathers dispersed through its dark brown hair twitched and laid flat, and the creature stilled before him.

 

“I am... Castiel,” it spoke slowly, an underlying avian hum laced within, ”And I would be indebted if you would help me.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was five in the morning, and Dean was trying to figure out the logistics of tying a sling for a birdman.

 

“Harpy,” Castiel groused, aiming a pointed glare over his shoulder which was pretty damn easy considering how goddamn bendy his neck was. 

 

“Whatever, be still,” Dean mumbled, trying not to break into hysterics as he tossed the bloodied gauze into the garbage can pulled from the guest bathroom. He cast a glance to the empty box sitting in the middle of the living room, considering. “You’re really that bird I found?”

 

Castiel’s head swiveled towards the box. “Yes,” he answered simply before raising his good wing to bury his face into the expanse of black and roughly pull out another bent feather as he’d been doing for the past five minutes. There was a neat pile of ruined feathers littering Dean’s floor he’d worry about when whatever acid he’d been slipped wore off.

 

“Huh,” Dean mumbled, taking out a large spool of gauze and staring at the Harpy dubiously. “I thought that uh, Harpies were bird-ladies with—” He barely rescued himself from saying “big tits” when sitting next to a mythological being. He read way too many fantasy novels and watched too much animated porn for his own good. 

 

Castiel snorted, a weird sound considering the raven-like caw that was blended into it. “Harpies have as many genders as your kind, human. I am a male if that was your next question.” He was a hell of a lot more sassy than Dean would have expected out of a cryptid, that’s for sure.

 

“Well fucking excuse me for not knowing anything about  _ harpies, _ for fuck’s sake. I’m not even sure I’m not dreaming right—OW!” He yelped when Castiel dug his left index talon into his knee.

 

“See? You do not dream.” Castiel snorted, “If you would focus…” He looked down at his lamed wing with an expectant quirk of his thick brow. 

 

Grumbling renewed, Dean did his best to pin Castiel’s injured wing to his side as well as bandage the slash to the best of his ability. “My brother could do a better job, but it’ll hold, maybe.” He shrugged.

 

Castiel looked down, nudging his shoulder with a peck of his lips. “Your brother?”

 

Dean tossed the used cotton swabs and gloves, “He’s a vet, er, a doctor that works on animals. Not to uh, say you’re an animal,” he added once he received yet another withering glare. 

 

“No one else must know of me. I have already put myself at risk with you,” Castiel insisted, pinning Dean with a critical eye. “But I am indebted to you, it cannot be helped.”

 

Dean got up to retrieve a beer and another glass of water for his guest.”Indebted? What’s that mean, exactly?”

 

Castiel accepted the glass and nursed it with a little less urgency this time around. “Do humans not know equivalent exchange anymore? Have you lost that much?” He tucked his feet up onto the couch, but the first few puncture marks of talons against leather made him wisely return to sitting on just his posterior, albeit a little grumpily. 

 

Dean tried not to think about the state of his poor couch after that. “Well, yeah I guess we do, but I don’t know what your kind of indebted is! Why bother? You’re patched up, so that’s good, ain’t it?”

 

The Harpy stilled, a small frown tugging his lips down. “It is not so simple. As I am, I can not return to my home.” He stared down at his injured wing, dragging the index finger of his left down the bound feathers. 

 

“Why not?” Dean asked, taking a swig of his beer with a thankful sigh.

The morning birds started their song despite the pitch of the predawn light. Dean could have sworn most morning birds like that flew the coop for the colder months, but they’d lingered still. He’d noticed there was a dense population of birds around, but he’d always attributed that to the sprawling woodland that was about half a mile off from his property. 

 

“It is not a place one can reach without flight,” Castiel answered at length, struggling a little to set the glass of half-empty water on the coffee table before Dean rescued him from his efforts.

 

Dean’s nose scrunched, “Why not? You can’t be the only one that gets injured when some shit goes down?”

 

Castiel started to shrug and thought better of it. “The weak fall. It is a fact of life.” 

 

“Are you serious? So one of you gets injured and tough tits? I thought ravens were supposed to be chill birds.” Dean scowled.

 

Castiel looked down at his chest, trying to puzzle out what “tough tits” meant. “I take the form of a raven, many of my brethren do not, nor do I have ‘tits’.” He raked his fingers over his pectorals with a small chirrup of annoyance.

 

Call it the shock of the night, but Dean only now let his eyes start shifting to notice more than Castiel’s wings and feet. His eyes trailed down the sun-touched expanse of Castiel’s humanoid chest, down the length of a tapered torso, and finally — Oh, right. Technically Castiel was butt-ass naked on his couch.

 

Did having a lower body covered in soft looking feathers count as pants?

 

Dean shook his head to pull his thoughts right out from that path altogether. “So you can’t go back until your wing heals up?”

 

Castiel’s shoulders sagged, and for the first time, the harpy’s piss and vinegar fled him leaving him looking lost and adrift. “Yes.”

 

“Well,” Fuck, he should stop talking right now before he did something stupid, “you could—uh, stay here I guess? I mean, I’m out here in BFE and only my brother comes out this way so…” Why, why had he just said that? Offering to be roommates with a Harpy was not something Dean Winchester had taken time to think through, but it was much too late for that now. 

 

Castiel sat staring at him long enough that Dean started to squirm under his piercing gaze. “I would….be very grateful, human.” He spoke with a cautious hope, crest rising slightly to make a mess of his dark hair. 

 

“Oh, jeez, I guess I never—Dean, my name is Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you?” Dean stuck out his hand before he had time to wonder if Harpies even knew how to shake hands since Dean wasn’t one hundred percent that Castiel even had complete hands. 

 

Slowly, Castiel extended his left arm, the small feathers surrounding his hand smoothing down to reveal a strong hand with hooked claws at the tip of each finger. His hand wrapped awkwardly around Dean’s, careful not to catch the human with his claws. 

 

“It is nice to meet you as well, Dean.”

 

* * *

 

By some stroke of luck, Sam couldn’t make it out until two days later. He’d offered to give Dean the address to the sanctuary, but Dean fed a few bullshit lines about a deadline and his editor Crowley breathing down his next, and Sam promised to hurry. 

 

Having Castiel as a temporary roommate, however, was really fucking weird. He’d never seen anyone swallow chunks of raw hamburger meat so contentedly, nor scrunch his face after being introduced to what toothpaste was. At least he’d stopped punching holes in his furniture by now. 

 

“How do you know so much about humans, anyway?” Dean asked as they settled for lunch, a tuna salad sandwich for him, and a mound of tuna and some strawberries picked up from the supermarket. 

 

Castiel speared a strawberry with his index finger, pupils zeroing in on the juice that slowly dripped down onto his plumage. “I have learned over the years,” he said simply before tossing the whole berry into his mouth with a clack of his teeth. Seeing Cas swallow things whole got no less creepy, but Dean had stopped flinching at it yesterday. 

 

“Huh, really?” Dean mumbled around a mouthful, not that the Harpy gave a crap about table manners. “How old are you?”

 

Castiel nibbled at a scoop of tuna, a bubbling trill pulsing in his throat, something Dean had realized was the Harpy equivalent of a hum of thought. “Two hundred and... fifty-three.” He nodded, dumping the rest of his bite in his mouth with a contented chirp.

 

Dean choked on his sandwich, “ _ What _ ?” He thumped his chest to dislodged the offending hunk of white bread and tuna salad, looking at Castiel as if he’d grown a second head. “Two hundred and — Jesus, is that young or old?” 

 

Now Castiel looked downright petulant. His feathers ruffled and his grousing picked up. “I suppose I am  _ technically _ still young, but I am accomplished! I have slain many of our enemies and feasted on their innards.” He puffed his chest out in pride, crest bobbing up and down in what Dean guessed as a display. It was weirdly adorable on a creature that had just talked about eating something’s innards.

 

“Oookay, so, what are your enemies? Cats?” Dean chortled, ignoring the ever-present glare aimed his way. 

 

“I fear no feline,” Castiel clarified, swallowing another berry. “Hunters that would kill us as trophies, or witches that harvest our feathers and bones for spells. Those are the enemies I slay.” At that moment, Dean could see how deadly Castiel must be at full strength. He didn’t know by what physics the harpy flew, for his body was as solid and muscular as his own, and his physical strength, while not superhuman, was formidable. Deans had seen what Castiel’s claws could do on accident to his couch, he could imagine what they’d do on human flesh. 

 

“Hunters and witches..g..gotcha.” Dean swallowed, stomach sinking. He knew logically that if there were harpies there were probably a whole shit ton of spooky things lurking out there, but he’d actively been trying not to think of that since befriending Castiel. 

 

Castiel finished off his plate with a little wiggle of contentment, licking the remains from under his talon with quiet chitters of delight. “Do not worry, Dean. I have detected no trace of—” A car door closed outside, and Dean’s heart leaped into his throat.

 

“Shitshitshit! Cas, hide! Fuckin’- Sam! Dammit, he didn’t call, he never  _ calls _ !” Dean sprang to his feet, hurrying to usher Castiel off into his private bathroom before Sam could use his key to walk in. 

 

“Dean?” Sam called, opening the front door and wrestling a few bags inside. He was under the impression that if left to his own devices Dean would eat the same meals for the rest of eternity if he didn’t go grocery shopping for him occasionally. He wasn’t exactly  _ wrong _ , but Dean found it mildly offensive anyway. Not that he was going to refuse free groceries now that Sam was making good money at his veterinarian practice. 

 

Dean closed the bathroom door and hurried into the living room, hoping Sam didn’t notice two empty plates and glasses. “Thought you were coming out later?” He walked over to accept some of the bags, playing at nonchalant as much as he could. 

 

“I finished up early and Jess is watching the office,” Sam answered brow quirked slightly as Dean shuffled off into the kitchen. Sam’s eyes were already sweeping around, and Dean could practically hear that big brain of his kicking into gear.    
  
“So where is the raven?” The question shouldn’t have caught Dean off guard, but it did. 

 

“H-huh?” Dean turned from throwing the broccoli in the fridge, staring dumbly.

 

“...The bird, Dean? The whole reason I was rushing to get over here?” Sam prompted, “Are you drunk? It’s barely noon!”

 

Sputtering, Dean stomped around the kitchen island.”No, I’m not drunk, Jesus, Sam.” He grumbled, “I’d uh, just… forgot,” he finished lamely, having no clue how to explain away the missing bird. “See, the bird, it—”

 

“Dean, did you kill it? I  _ told _ you what to do and—”

 

“Would you let me fucking talk?” Dean fumed, pinning Sam with a hard stare until the younger zipped it. “Turns out I’m pretty shitty at telling when a bird is seriously hurt or not. Just needed some R&R and it kicked up a fuss and I let it go.” He was a decent liar. He’d learned from their father, after all. 

 

Sam peered at him critically, trying to gauge the level of bullshit. “...And you’re sure you didn’t accidentally kill it?” 

 

“No, Sam, I didn’t kill the goddamn bird.” Dean was a moment away from stamping his foot like a five-year-old if it wasn’t for the loud thump that sounded from the direction of his bathroom. 

 

Sam’s eyes swiveled, and he groaned, “ _ Dean _ , I knew it, there is someone here, right? No wonder you let the bird go.” He scowled, not believing for a moment that Dean had judged the raven’s condition correctly. “Dammit, Dean, I knew I should have taken off work for an hour yesterday to get it but, you really couldn’t have waited?”

 

Dean’s attention was torn between seeing his bathroom door open from his angle in the living room and trying not to fume as his baby brother ranted at him like he was an idiot. “Yeah, okay, maybe I screwed up, but as you can see, totally entertaining or whatever so maybe you can just…” He reached out to turn his brother away from the double doors connecting his room and the living room. 

 

Of course, this couldn’t be the  _ one _ time Sam let something go. “No, I’m going to check around the backyard and make sure it’s not on the property, I’m already out here so I might as well.” He turned back around and stopped. “Oh, hi. Sorry I didn’t mean to shout or anything.” Sam wasn’t talking to him, and he wasn’t screaming, and Dean thought both of those things were bizarre. 

 

Slowly, Dean turned and almost immediately had a heart attack. “Cas?” he squeaked, ignoring the scrunch-face look Sam gave him for doing that right in his ear.

 

Castiel stood in the doorway of Dean’s bedroom, wrapped in Dean’s bathrobe with decidedly human feet sticking out from the bottom and a severe lack of feathers. His hair had its usual freshly-fucked tousle, which didn’t at all improve the implications of how Sam must have thought he spent his morning. 

 

Granted, Dean didn’t make it a secret he was bisexual, not anymore, but Sam had never walked in on a supposed “hookup” of the male variety of his either. 

 

“You must be Sam, “ Hearing Castiel’s voice without the avian undertone was even stranger than his lack of feathers. It was deep, nearly gravely in a way that went right to his—wait, no, not right now dammit. 

 

“Yeah, and you’re—?” Sam fished, closing the distance between him and Castiel to offer his hand.

 

Castiel blinked down at the outstretched hand, head cocking to the side that felt a little more like the Harpy Dean had spent two and a half days with. Slowly, he mimed the interaction, and finally, it seemed to click what Sam was doing, and he shook hands like a normal human being. “I am Castiel,” Which was a little less of a convincing “people” introduction than what Dean had hoped for. 

 

“That’s—that’s a name,” Sam said tactfully, back glancing at Dean with a mouthed “Okay?”. “And sorry to intrude, I’m just here to find the bird that Dean was supposed to be looking after.”

 

Castiel moved a little stiffly, and Dean noticed he hadn’t threaded his injured “wing” arm through the robe sleeve. Whatever he did to make himself look human had apparently not done anything for his injury, which was strangely anxiety-inducing considering the situation. Not as if Sam would guess Cas was the damn bird anyway, but still. 

 

“The raven? I saw it before he let it go, I think your brother exaggerated its injuries.” He shot a look that was oddly indulgent in Dean’s direction. “It flew away a little—” Castiel fished for words, but considering his peculiar speaking inflections, it could easily pass that English wasn’t his first language...which, was admittedly true now that Dean thought about it. ”Wobbly? Dean? Yes?” Castiel looked over at him, brows furrowed in faint frustration that he couldn’t find a good word.

 

Dean hurried over, standing a little closer to Castiel than strictly necessary to “sell” the intimacy, “Yep,” He popped the ‘p’ and quietly cursed at how much of a spazz he was acting like. ”It was a little wonky, but it got around alright. See? I told you I didn’t kill it.” He sniffed triumphantly. 

 

Rolling his eyes, Sam took a step back. “Yeah alright, that’s good then. I guess I’ll get out of your hair since you’re...busy.” He took another look at Castiel. “Nice to meet you.” The  _ I think _ was implied. Considering Dean’s track record he wasn’t going to invest really knowing Castiel. “You going out for Halloween tonight, Dean?” he asked after taking another step towards the door.

 

Oh, shit, that’s right. It was Halloween, wasn’t it? “Nah, figured I’d just stick around here with beer and Halloween marathons.” He took a glance at Castiel, and added, “With Cas.” This got another peculiar look out of Sam.

 

“Oh, cool. Have fun?” Sam took another step back, shook his head, and turned to stride out of the door and back towards his car.

 

After Dean heard Sam’s eco-friendly pick-up rumble to life he turned abruptly to begin picking at the robe draped over Castiel’s very-human body with obvious awe. “ _ Dude _ , could you do that the entire time? What the hell? How did you?” He stopped right after the robe slipped enough to bare one of Castiel’s olive shoulders, hand recoiling as if burned from the sudden skin. He was used to seeing Castiel “naked”, but the feathers had felt a lot different than  _ his _ robe. 

 

Castiel sighed and a sudden exhaustion gripped the Harpy. “I wasn’t planning on molting this year, but I felt it necessary to keep your brother at bay.” He slumped onto the couch with a yawn, “In my injured state, it was...taxing.”

 

“Molting? Like what chickens do? Last time I checked chickens don’t grow feet when they molt.” Dean gawked, staring hard enough his ass almost missed the couch on the way down.

 

Cas’s trademark long-suffering glare increased a degree, ”I am a  _ Harpy, _ not a chicken. My people can take this shape once a year on Samhain, the day when many in the Between-realms walk among your kind as one of you.” His smirk turned wry, “Many take lovers to become with child to diversify the gene pool.”

 

Okay, that was a lot to unpack, and Dean zeroed in on the one thing he had no business thinking about. “Um, so you mean sometimes the people getting freaky on Halloween can be actual monsters looking to get knocked up?”

 

Castiel’s eyes narrowed as he tried to parse out the sentence with far too many human colloquialisms for his liking. “I take offense at being referred to as a ‘monster’, but yes.” He huffed and unceremoniously began to untie the robe from his waist.

 

Dean’s eyes bugged from his head at the strip of flesh bared as Castiel began to literally disrobe. “Whoa! Cas, the fuck?” He looked away, cheeks heating. He wasn’t a blushing virgin by any means, but Dean wasn’t used to someone just dropping trow around him left and right either.

 

“This material is uncomfortable and my arm hurts,” Castiel supplied, and finished undressing. 

 

“Oh shit.” Dean looked down, doggedly trying not to let his eyes make the natural progression down to stare at Castiel’s junk. He was curious, okay? The feathers had covered everything up before! 

 

Castiel’s arm looked better than Dean expected, but then again he wasn’t sure on how fast Harpies healed either. It still looked swollen and bruised, but the cuts had closed up, which was a relief. Castiel’s side still showed signs of scabbing, but it too looked blessedly worlds away from the mess Dean had dealt with a few nights ago. 

 

“Hold on, I’ll get more bandages.” Dean hopped up, quietly determined to fetch a pair of underwear while he was at it. He returned with an armful of supplies and dropped a grey pair of boxers in Castiel’s lap before he could steal more than a glance. A glance was enough to make Dean’s cheeks heat all over again. 

 

“Come’ere.” Dean sat. “So tomorrow you’ll be all feathers again?” He asked as he began the process of binding Castiel’s arm to his side once more. The break had been bad enough, but Dean didn’t want to risk a sling, human arm or not.

 

Castiel blanched, breaths coming in short huffs until Dean was more or less finished. “It is usually a full moon rotation, but since I did not molt until the middle of the day, I expect until dawn. Over the next few days, my feathers will grow back...Normally I do not wish to be so exposed, but considering I am already vulnerable, it was an auspicious time to molt.” He yawned, eyes looking more dozy than usual. 

 

“Tired? How about a nap? No offense dude, but you look like you need it.” Dean leaned away to put up the rest of the supplies, absently noting he needed to pick up some more bandages the next time he was in town. 

 

“I...do not sleep well here,” Castiel admitted, picking at the grey material Dean had laid over his lap with a slight frown.

 

Dean resisted rolling his eyes and focussed on the important issue. ”Why not?” The guest room wasn’t the Ritz but it was comfortable enough. It had the same mattress Dean slept on, mainly because he’d gotten a two-for-one deal. 

 

Puffing a long exhale through his nose, Castiel shrugged. “It is odd for me not to roost, to lay where I would attribute danger, and to be without my nestmates for warmth.” He shifted, looking uncomfortable with his naked skin against the discarded robe and couch. 

 

“Nestmates?” Dean asked.

 

“The word...brothers? Yes. My sister has married and left the family roost, but two of my brothers remain. We roost together when home, and without them, my mind is...disquiet.” Castiel’s morose mood fell further, and Dean knew if his feathers were still present they would have adhered to his head in his sorrow. He almost missed the mass of black feathers on the man, if only because how  _ expressive _ they were. 

 

“Oh.” Dean frowned, chewing his lower lip. “How about this, I can ...I can nap with you? Would that help?” Smooth one, Dean, that sounded like a great idea, play cuddle buddies with a cryptid. 

 

Castiel’s head quirked, bright blues staring at him so long Dean worried for his “human” eyes. “I would like that,” he decided and stood, the boxers falling to the floor. 

 

Dean choked, blinking his eyes closed despite the fact that Castiel’s junk was now seared into his vision...Not as if that was a bad thing, but considering he was about to platonically nap with an injured Harpy, he shouldn’t be thinking about  _ anyone _ ’s package right now. 

 

“Okay, Cas, if we’re going to be snuggling you’re going to be needing to wear those.” Dean reached down to blindly grope for the underwear and thrust it back at Castiel all while his eyes were closed.

 

“Why? Why are humans so prone to the elements that you need even these meager coverings?” Castiel accepted the boxers, nose crinkling in distaste.

 

Groaning, Dean stood and turned around. “We just—we do, okay? Do me a solid and just put them on?” he beseeched, ignoring the flutter of inappropriate desire the lingering image of Castiel standing stark-ass naked stirred within him. 

 

There was a slight shuffling and an indignant croak that sounded suspiciously like a squawk and Castiel’s good hand descended on Dean’s shoulder for stability. “I despise human legs,” Castiel grumbled, the touch lifting, and he finished pulling on the offending underclothes. 

 

“We’re definitely not as aerodynamically designed as you are, feathers.” Dean chuckled as he walked towards his bedroom, trying to ignore the anxious pounding of his heart. He could sleep next to someone without it being weird. He’d practically grown up not having a bed of his own and having to get increasingly crowded out of the ones he shared with Sam as the brat grew. He’d slept in dogpiles in his wild twenties, and had crashed on more than a few floors after parties. He could nap next to Castiel and not be a freak about it. 

 

Which was a great thought right up until he was in his own boxers with the lights out and a harpy cuddled into his side as if Castiel was trying to burrow into his skin. 

 

Castiel sided in contentment, nuzzling his head into Dean’s shoulder until he raised it enough to let Castiel rest his head on his chest. 

 

“Comfy?” Dean swallowed, trying to ignore how warm Castiel’s body ran. Cas had to have a higher internal body temperature than a human because  _ goddamn _ . If it wasn’t getting nippy outside Dean might have wiggled right out of Castiel’s hold before he started sweating. 

 

Castiel cracked an eye open, ”If that means ‘comfortable’, then yes. Thank you, Dean.” He rumbled, the deep vibrato of his voice spreading into Dean’s ribcage. 

 

“Awesome.” Dean’s breath left him in a quiet shudder, and he willed himself to relax and let Castiel fall asleep. 

 

Dean woke Castiel’s nails scraping bluntly across his chest. For a moment, Dean stared down at the hand, not immediately remembering that Cas was “human” at the moment. The quiet sound of Castiel’s distress tugged him from his sleep-addled confusion. 

 

“Cas?” Dean leaned up, though he didn’t have far to go while Castiel adhered to him like a limpet in his sleep. Another soft note scrunched up Castiel’s face where it was buried against his shoulder and Castiel squeezed even closer.

 

“Cas? Buddy? Wake up,” Dean awkwardly reached over to nudge Castiel’s shoulder. 

 

Castiel woke with a start, eyes flaring wide. “D-dean?” His breath was hot against Dean’s bare shoulder.

 

“You okay? Bad dream?” Dean asked, trying to act like none of this was freaking him out as much as it was. 

 

He wouldn’t call himself a player anymore, but his youth could be summed up with “hit and quit it”, with moments of idiot-levels of falling head over heels that only ended in heartbreak all around.  But nowhere in there had he ever had a serious relationship with a man long enough to merit waking up next to one. There was probably a big dose of internalized homophobia there, but it wasn’t like there had been ample opportunities either. 

 

Castiel sighed, lowering his head back against Dean’s shoulder with a slow nod. “It was...unpleasant. I dreamed I had lost my wing instead of injured it,” he murmured against Dean’s skin. 

 

“Oh,” Dean flinched, reaching to run a gentle thumb against Castiel’s bound arm. “Well, lucky that didn’t happen, right?” He was the last person on earth that needed to give comforting pep talks, but it wasn’t like he could call up his emotional hippie of a brother either. 

 

Castiel made a noncommittal grunt, “It would have been all too easy…”

 

Words lapsed, and Dean was left staring at the outline of Castiel against him, framed in the afternoon light from the window. There was a question there Dean had neglected before, but he figured this was as good of a time as any. “How’d you get hurt anyway? Cat or something?” 

 

Castiel shifted to get his other hand up long enough again to smack Dean for what he perceived as a joke. “A chance of misfortune. I was  — mm, scouting? Scouting the area for my usual rounds and came to rest on a fence. I was not aware of the farmer’s...zealousness for his firearms. It caught my flight feathers and left me vulnerable otherwise the hawk would not have won so easily.” He fumed, annoyed that he had been bested by a common hawk. “I repelled it enough for it not to put forth the effort for the kill, but it left me drained.”

 

“And then I found you.” Dean finished, remembering the bloodied, crumpled pile of feathers he’d picked up from his backyard. 

 

“Yes, for which I am very thankful.” Yet something in Castiel’s voice still sounded strained.

 

“...But?” Dean ventured, shifting to peer at the top of Castiel’s head.

 

Another stretch of silence descended over the bed, the weight of Castiel’s worry thicker than the blanket tugged up over their intertwined bodies. “If it were not for you, I could have very well been denied entry to my home ever again. Had it been worse, I would have—”

 

“Hey, ‘What ifs’ ain’t what happened. You’re healing up, you’re arm-, er, wing, is getting better and you’ll be able to get home, and hell, even if you had been banged up worse I still would have...you know, helped and stuff.” Dean wasn’t sure what he was trying to say at this point, but he wanted Castiel to know he had a friend. They hadn’t known each other long, and Castiel was definitely a weird one, but Dean had stopped being scared shitless of what Cas was and started to genuinely enjoy the Harpy for being him pretty quickly. They just,  _ meshed _ .

 

Castiel wiggled, tilting his head up until he could look at Dean without craning. “That is...very kind of you Dean. I know it must be difficult to accept so many things outside your norm.”

 

If Dean wasn’t horizontal he would have shrugged, ”What’s normal, I guess? There’s shit every day I don’t understand.” He chuckled quietly, awkwardly patting Castiel the best he could on the shoulder. 

 

Castiel settled back against Dean’s side, evidently content to share body heat. It wasn’t until Dean’s stomach gave a loud growl that Castiel sat up with a low chuckle. “Apologies, I have made you sleep at an odd time.”

 

Sitting up after him, Dean patted his stomach with a blush-tinged grin. “I’m always a fan of naps. Guess it’s snack time, still a bit early for dinner.” He stood up, shaking his boxers down his thighs and rummaging around the shirt he’d tossed aside before the nap. 

 

He turned, startling when he found Castiel’s eyes pinned on him like two crystal blue spotlights. Swallowing, he pulled on his shirt, trying not to read too much into Castiel’s eyes following the descent of fabric. He’d long learned Castiel liked to stare at just about anything. Another avian habit or a personal quirk, Dean wasn’t sure. It was disconcerting and then some, but it still felt quintessentially Cas. 

 

“Hungry?” He prompted, walking off into the living room to shake the sensation of eyes from his chest. Not that it had been unpleasant, but it had been a few months since he’d been shirtless in front of anyone but his brother and his libido was confused as hell as long as Castiel didn’t have feathers. Or...Hell, Dean wasn’t going to lie and say he’d not looked at Castiel as handsome face-wise before, but he wasn’t going past that!

 

Castiel placed a hand over his stomach and considered. “Mmm, yes. A bit.” He stood, toes flexing against the hardwood with a frown.”Human stability is...lacking.” Grumbling, he turned to drag the comforter off the bed and wrap it around his shoulders before parading into the living room to roost on the couch. 

 

Chuckling, Dean set to make their snack. Usually, he’d stick to whatever crap was laying around, but for Castiel, he made an effort to assemble from beef jerky, more fruit, and some snack cheese. Being in a human form, Dean figured Castiel had a little more leeway with his diet so he carried over a chocolate snack cake to split as well. 

 

Sitting there just watching Castiel negotiate his food without his talons in the way, or the quiet grumbling he made when he found out he detested grapes made an easier warmth settle in Dean’s chest. He felt more at ease in his own home than he ever before, as if Castiel had been a missing piece to liven the place up. To make the house  _ breathe _ . The thought of his wing getting better and him just up and leaving forever...Well, Dean didn’t want to address those thoughts just yet. 

 

They chatted, bickered, and watched television until it was time for dinner where Dean went a little fancier than what he’d bother for himself and made a lasagna. Castiel ate three helpings before he had to call it quits, loudly groaning as he flopped over on the couch with a pooched stomach Dean had the irrational urge to touch. Seeing Cas human, in his boxers and wrapped in his comforter was doing weird things to Dean’s mind that he was practically grateful when it came time to go to bed.

 

Of course, he’d forgotten about the nap they’d shared, and when Castiel reached out to snag his shirtsleeve between his fingers Dean startled.

 

“Sup, Cas?” Dean asked through a soft yawn. 

 

“May I...sleep with you again?” Castiel asked, head tilted down though his eyes were on Dean, peering through his dark lashes. “It was far easier to rest when you were near.” The comforter slipped from his shoulders, baring a stretch of skin still illuminated by the living room lights. 

 

Accepting the blanket, Dean nodded dumbly. “Y-yeah, whatever floats your boat.”

 

“Dean, I do not own a boat, I am a Harpy. Have you forgotten?” Castiel replied critical, brows pulled in such seriousness that Dean felt like he should stifle his laughter.

“Ah, sorry, I must have.” He tittered softly as he reached out to throw his arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pull him towards the bedroom, quiet jitters forgotten. “Give me a minute, need to get ready.” Dean walked off to his bathroom for his nightly ritual, quietly wondering if he should ask Cas if he wanted to bathe or anything. 

 

Cas hadn’t needed much in the way of hygiene since he’d shown up. Dean sure as hell couldn’t smell any BO, so maybe harpies really were that radically different? 

 

“Do you wanna shower or anything?” Dean asked, leaning against the door jam with his toothbrush hanging from his lips. 

 

Castiel’s head popped up from the cocoon of blankets. He took a cursory sniff of himself, considering. “I do not know how humans bathe in their house. When my kind grow too filthy to self-groom, we bathe in streams or shallow basins.”

 

It took all within Dean not to make a bird-bath comment. Briefly darting away to spit, Dean motioned Castiel into the bathroom. “Come on dude, I’ll show you how the shower works.” He heard Castiel get up and approach, so he jerked back the shower curtain and bent over to fiddle with the knobs.

 

“Okay, so this one here is cold water, and this is hot water. Balance out to how you want it and if you just rotate this — voila, shower.” He turned back around to find Castiel had stepped out of his boxers, and his cheeks flushed crimson. His hand slipped on the tub, and he scrambled to catch himself before he toppled into bathtub completely. 

 

Castiel reached out, wrapping his strong hand around Dean’s bicep to right him to his feet. “Dean? Are you alright?”

 

Head soaked and ego bruised, Dean sputtered, “Y-yep! Just...slipped. Watch your step.” He swallowed and sidled out of the way. “Holler if you need me. Towels are across from you.” He hauled ass out of the bathroom before he could ogle Castiel any more than he already had. 

 

Dean was dozing off by the time Castiel emerged from the steam-filled bathroom, toweling off his body with a faint air of dissatisfaction. “I do not see how humanity manages without feathers or fur. It is barbaric.”

 

Quietly chuckling, Dean wiggled a little to make room for Castiel as the other slips into bed, hair still slightly damp.  “It’s a mystery.” He murmured, settling a moment before he felt Castiel slot himself against him. Completely butt-ass naked.

 

Oh right, boxers. He’d forgotten to get another pair of Cas. Great. This wasn’t going to be awkward at  _ all _ . 

 

Relaxing as best he could with Castiel trying to press himself as close as physically possible to his side, Dean quietly willed himself to behave. Just because he hadn’t gotten any in a while didn’t mean he was going to use this to his advantage. Castiel might have said his kind couple with humans sometimes, but he didn’t even know if that meant  _ just _ in a heterosexual sense. 

 

“Goodnight Cas.” He didn’t sound completely weird, so win.

 

“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel murmured against his shoulder, soft lips dusting his skin. 

 

It was going to be a long night. 

 

* * *

 

 

“ _ Dean _ ,” Castiel’s quiet urgency roused Dean from his sleep.

 

Dean blinked hard, looking around the near pitch room with a sudden burst of adrenaline. “Wha-what? What is it Cas?” He asked,  puzzled right up until he felt a very,  _ very _ noticeable heat pressing against his side. 

 

Castiel puffed hot breaths against his neck, the upper half of his body pressing Dean’s left shoulder into the bed. “I feel..I feel strange.” He groaned, tucking his head down,”I shouldn’t..be like this. It isn’t the usual time.” He muttered, barely making any sense as far as Dean was concerned.

 

“Uh-uhm? Cas? What’s going on buddy? What’s wrong?” Besides the fucking obvious.

 

Castiel’s body trembled against him, shower-damp hair lukewarm where Cas pressed his head against his cheek. “The shift...I didn’t think it would trigger if I molted here.” He whispered, licking his lips to wet them, the tip of his tongue passing against Dean’s skin. 

 

Shuddering a quiet breath, Dean fisted the sheets to keep from doing anything inappropriate. “Not...not real sure what the means, Cas.” He prompted for more, urging Cas to be more clear.

 

A puffed sigh of aggravation gusted past Castiel’s lips. “ _ Dean _ ,” He whined, “It’s..I told you, my kind walk Samhain night to find mates. I did not think my shift would occur with a...with a human male. I was wrong.”

 

Okay, well that..that was a thing? Dean nodded slightly, “Does that mean harpies don’t sleep with the same gender?” he asked cautiously.

 

Castiel pressed a little more of his weight to Dean’s body, but the pressure against his lower extremities immediately made him lean off again with a quiet keen. “We do. I had heard rumor humans did as well, but…I-I’m sorry. I can’t — it must disgust you, but I can’t move away.”

 

Dean tipped his head to the heavens with a silent  _ thank fuck _ . “Cas, Jesus, I’m not disgusted, trust me.” Cautiously, he brought his hands up to rest against Castiel’s back. Cas sighed into the touch, lowering his body down once more. “You...sure this is okay? I don’t want to do anything you wouldn’t like or — Shit I don’t even know if we do the same things?” He was overthinking this, he knew, but he couldn’t help it!

 

The tenuous control Cas had on himself snapped, and he crawled further up on Dean’s body. “Is this...alright?” he asked, pupils blown to hell and looking an inch away from ripping into Dean’s skin, which, Dean would admit, was oddly arousing. 

 

“Y-yep, totally alright. Very very...alright.” Dean’s breath trembled past his lips as his hands skimmed up and down Castiel’s shapely hips and side, basking in the warmth of his skin. 

 

With that Castiel leaned down to crash their lips together in a kiss that sucked the air from Dean’s lungs. It was a one-two punch to Dean’s neglected libido feeling Castiel’s weight on him combined with the solid erection slotted against his thigh. 

 

He moaned freely against Castiel’s lips, hands reaching down to cup the two firm mounds of Castiel’s ass. Cas gasped above him, wiggling his hips as little against Dean’s for a brief shock of sensation. 

 

“ _ More _ ,” Castiel demanded, mouth working to mark and kiss every bit of skin his lips could reach.

 

Dean was lost to it, tipping his head back against his pillow to let Castiel take his feral hunger out on his flesh. “J-Jesus, Cas.” He ground his hips up, sliding his trapped length against Castiel’s with a weak whimper. 

 

Only the feeling of Castiel’s wrapped arm brought him back to reality. “Hold up Cas, your arm.” He panted, not wanting Cas to end up damaging his arm even worse than it already was just because they were horny. 

 

“Damn the arm,” Castiel hissed dismissively, darting forward to nip at Dean’s lower lip.

 

The burst of sensation against his lip tore a shiver down Dean’s spine, but he held firm. “How about...Come on, like this.” Dean guided Castiel back to the bed and Dean quickly took place between Castiel’s legs, sitting back on his heels to appreciate the stretch of skin before him. “...Can I turn on a light?” He wanted to see Castiel like this clearer than the weak light filtering in the double-doors from the kitchen. 

 

“Do anything you wish as long as you return quickly,” Castiel grumbled, reaching down to palm the arch of his desire. “H-humanity is...insistent.” 

 

Snorting, Dean leaned over to flick the bedside lamp on. “Don’t I know it.” He looked down the length of himself where the weight of his own erection bobbed expectantly. 

 

Bathed in the light, Castiel was breathtaking. He held his knees wide with no trace of self-consciousness, fingers working up his cock in lazy strokes as he watched Dean with the intensity of a chickenhawk. 

 

Settling back, Dean reached down to run his hands against Castiel’s thighs, thumbs stretching to toy with the weight of his sack. “How...do you want to do this, Cas?”

 

Castiel’s lips parted, hips giving a small roll into Dean’s ministrations. “I don’t know. I have never coupled with a human before. I have never molted outside of my home,” he admitted, eyes pinned to Dean’s interest. 

 

Dean worried his bottom lip, silently debating. “Fuck it,” he whispered to himself and dove back to his nightstand to hurriedly retrieve his lube, ignoring the sleek toy that rattled around next to it. He had something better tonight. 

 

Castiel’s head quirked with a quiet note of confusion as he watched Dean pour a liberal measure of clear liquid onto his fingers, but he didn’t question it. Dean’s face heated as he moved up to settle over Castiel’s hips, hovering above him while he reached back to spread the lube against his tight pucker. 

 

“F-fuck, haven’t done this in a while.” Dean breathed, head lolling as the first finger pressed past his ring, lube quickly warming on his skin. 

 

Castiel made a huffed grunt at not being able to see, freehand raising to feel against Dean’s cheeks until he could probe where Dean was fingering himself open with a gasped note of surprise.

 

Below him, Dean felt Castiel’s cock twitch, Cas’s tip nudging against the soft hang of Dean’s balls. “Like that? D-don’t know how you guys do it, but we have to — ahhh, stretch a bit.” He rolled his hips against the invasion of a second finger, sliding them in deeper and deeper. 

 

“And it feels pleasurable?” Castiel asked, running his fingers in the slickness against Dean’s rim. 

 

“Fuck y-yes it does,” Dean’s breath hitched, eyes blooming wide as Castiel’s middle finger suddenly sank into him a little faster than what he’d initially been prepared for. It left a slight burn in its wake, but fuck was it nice to be stretched. 

 

Before Castiel could get froggy and try to work a fourth into him, Dean swatted his hand away and reached down to wrap his slippery hand around Castiel in a slow, loose pump. 

 

“D-dean!” Cas’s hips jerked, sliding his dick between the shining cleft of Dean’s cheeks.

 

“I gotcha, Cas, let me — Fuck, like that. Watch.” Dean guided Castiel’s tip against his stretched hole, teasing himself a little with a few passes before he started to sink down over Cas with a heady sigh. 

 

As soon as his head popped past Dean’s rim, Castiel was speechless. His hand gripped hard against Dean’s thigh as inch by inch he was devoured.

 

“God Cas, you feel — fucking amazing.” Dean didn’t stop until their hips met, grinding his hips slow to stir up his deepest reaches. 

 

Castiel’s hips jerked, popping Dean on his lap to earn a gasp from each of them. “D...Dean,” Castiel gasped, trembling so hard Dean thought he might break apart.

 

“It’s okay, Cas, do it, fuck me.” A dim part of him realized how monumentally stupid it was of him to do this without a condom, but then again he didn’t even know how harpies fully worked. Did magic cryptid bird people have to worry about STDs? Fuck it, he would lecture himself tomorrow.

 

Castiel took the permission and ran with it. Digging his heels into the bed, he snapped his hips up into Dean’s heat hard enough Dean had to press down not to get abruptly unseated. 

 

“Sh-shit!” Dean whimpered while screwing up his eyes to bask in the onslaught of pleasure that hammered up into his prostate with piston-like force. There was no way he could last like this, not with how long it had been, but with how Castiel was gripping him, he doubted Cas was far behind. 

 

His hand snapped to his swinging cock, roughly gripping it as he started to stroke with the same wanton abandon as Castiel was fucking up into him.

 

“C-casssss!” Dean shouted as he came, jerking three fat stripes across Castiel’s chest and dribbling the rest down his frantic hand. 

 

He didn’t know if it was getting abruptly painted in Dean’s release or the way he tightened around Castiel when he came, but whatever it was, Castiel was coming with a hoarse shout a moment later, flooding into him with a heat so unlike the men Dean had taken in the past. A pool of lava took root in his core, filling him up with a warmth that radiated from the inside out. 

 

Dean flopped to the side sometime later, lower half sore to the bone but deeply sated. He had only a few seconds by himself before Castiel was plastered against him once more, nuzzling him with open affection. 

 

He was a sweaty mess, and he was sure he was leaking a puddle, but he didn’t have it in him to dislodge Castiel just yet. 

 

“I am...very glad it was you that found me,” Castiel muttered, placing a kiss far too tender for Dean’s heart to take against his jawline.

 

Dean traced the plains of Castiel’s face in the light behind him, studying the handsome face hovered so close to his own. “Me too, Cas, me too.”

 

—- A month later —- 

 

Dean moved around the kitchen, washing up after a late lunch. He heard Sam puttering around in the living room, yammering on about his new rescue as if he needed another dog. Dean had been thinking of getting one himself, but there were reasons he hesitated. He had to make sure  _ they _ got along, and well...a trip to the animal shelter was out of the question until at least next year. 

 

“Hey, Dean,” Sam turned to look at him from the window that overlooked the back porch. “You know a big raven is sitting on your railing? You think it’s the same one from last time?” The raven watched him back, intelligent eyes studying him.

 

Setting the drying towel down, Dean walked over to the window to see the bird in question, a soft smile hovering over his lips. “Oh yeah, he’s been around a lot lately.” He waggled his fingers towards the glass with a knowing grin.

 

The raven shuffled on the railing, beak parting with a soft caw as it bobbed its head. 

 

Sam gasped beside him, “Holy crap, did it just nod at you?” He looked between Dean and the bird, lost to why Dean looked so amused. 

 

“He’s pretty smart, but don’t tell him that, or it’ll just go to his head,” Dean smirked, turning to retrieve a few steaks from the freezer to thaw for later. 

 

“Huh…” Sam shook his head, walking after Dean with a quirked brow. “Expecting company later?”

 

Dean shrugged lightly. “You’ve met him, remember Castiel?”

 

“Yeah, the Halloween guy?” Sam smirked since he’d met a little more of Cas that he’d wanted to that night.

 

Snickering, Dean nodded. “He’ll be around.” It was an odd arrangement, one that he hoped to tell Sam about one day, but for now, he was content to have Castiel drop by a few days out of the week after his patrols. The warmth and contentment had never faded away after that night, even after dawn broke the spell Samhain cast. Dean didn’t mind having a harpy for a boyfriend, feathers and all. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Write


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